Bob Gajarsky
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REVIEW: Sharkboy, _Matinee_ (Nude)
- John Walker
Cross-pollination between the Anglo and American rock music scenes
has resulted in some potent mutations: Britain's Sex Pistols took the
energy of America's New York Dolls and Ramones, mixing it with their
own working-class angst to create punk rock; the American grunge scene
owes its entire existence to the music created by the original line-up
of the U.K.'s Black Sabbath. And now we have Britain's Sharkboy,
latching on to more Americana in the form of The Velvet
Underground--with some overtones of Miles Davis--creating yet another
heady brew worthy of serious attention. Suede, it seems, is not the
only great band on Nude records.
Led by the striking female singer/songwriter Avy, whose lack of
surname puts one in mind of the Velvet's late, great Nico, Sharkboy's
debut album _Matinee_ creates an languid atmosphere which is
comparable to Mazzy Star minus the junkie nod-out vibe, replacing that
with an ominous, edgy atmosphere that suggests much more than it
states. "Subtlety" hasn't exactly been a hallmark of the 90s so far,
but Avy and company do their best to inject some into a scene filled
with chest-beating grungers and rappers of either gender.
_Matinee_ is an impressive debut because it avoids the recent
postmodern plague of the "quotation" (i.e. ripping off) of one's
influences in favour instead of their emulation. Thus, the Velvets
riffs which appear here sound fresh, and are invigorated by the
addition of brass, notably trumpets and saxes, which often appear in
place of the obligatory guitar solo. Lou Reed has often noted the
influence of jazz artists such as Albert Ayler on the V.U., and has
employed ace trumpeter Don Cherry on his own records; Sharkboy takes
this idea and runs with it, extending a singular and most worthy line
of rock and roll into the 90s.
And, of course, Shark_boy_ is most notable for the talents of lead
_girl_ Avy. It's her show, backed though she is by an ace supporting
crew. As I said, she's subtle--no Courtney Love victim histrionics to
be found here; no Madonna "wait, let me get my tits out again"
juvenile attempts at transgression. Instead, we get Avy intoning "I'm
sure I can hide/The milky waste I keep inside/I wish I was safe
from/The way I feel tonight" in "Crystaline," and it's a million times
more effective than anything I've heard from a "female rocker" since
the last PJ Harvey album. If we must situate Avy within an artistic
lineage (and of course we must) it's Nico, Patti Smith, Marianne Faithfull,
and PJ Harvey: women in touch with the darker side of themselves, and more
importantly, who can turn that darker side into something meaningful
artistically. There's an _aesthetic_ at work here, one evolved far beyond
mere adolescent bellyaching, finger-pointing, or posturing. Avy's the real
thing, and that's gonna frighten some people.
Ahhhh, but what about the songs?, you say. They're good. Very
good.
The highlights are here are many: "Sacramento Child" starts
things off with a kind of ominous beat bongo shuffle, listless and
engaging all at once. "Do you want me to tell you something I'm not
sure of?" queries Avy of the "drifter" referred to in the song's
title, thus setting a tone which will characterize the rest of
_Matinee_. "I could never lie to you." Is she going to ask him to
come closer, or tell him to piss off? You're not sure, but you want
to find out-- and in this sexy ambivalence lies Sharkboy's appeal.
The next two numbers, "My Star" and "Forest Fire," introduce us
to the rest of the band. Both songs start quietly and then build towards
Velvets rifferama for their resolution. The former song imparts the
feel of an impending climax, an upwards spiral toward a heavenly body,
while the latter features Avy "climbing trees in a forest fire"
(Freudian sexual overtones noted), with David O' Neal punctuating the
guitar squall with some inspired, John Coltrane-inspired blowing on
the saxophone.
"Razor" gives us sex as an anecdote to boredom. Avy's plagued
here by "car wash music" in her head (a great image), and the song
itself approximates something close to pure pop heaven. 'I got a
razor thin skin/But I keep on touchin' you" sings Avy with a
combination of lust and consternation. Get too close and you'll get
kissed - cut - or both? Don't piss this woman off,
buddy--just give her what she needs. Avy's evocation of a slightly
dangerous Karen Carpenter here is quite effective.
"Don't Walk Run" is aural sex, continuing the air of curious ambiguity
which haunts this album. Run from what, or toward whom? The band gets
a chance to extend things here, and the result is some of the best
Neo-Velvets drug trance-rock heard since the mid-80s heyday of The
Dream Syndicate and The Feelies. "How did the sky get so blue?" asks
a blissed-out sounding Avy. And where can I get some? Adding to the
Velvets feel here is some very Cale (as in John) sounding viola
courtesy of Adrian Oxaal that works a treat, as the number builds
toward a ferocious climax, and then lets you back down again, gently.
The aforementioned "Crystaline" would be a hit single in a better
world, an upbeat ode to the Dionysian drives of nature and biology
which today's politically correct types would have us deny. "Road"
features thick guitar lines that bring to mind the guitar work of Ry
Cooder on the soundtrack to _Paris, Texas_, a great road movie in the
American tradition. Some fine Miles Davis-influenced trumpet work
here from Nick Wilson as well. Still, the sound ends up being pure
Sharkboy--emulation, not imitation. "Sugar" (_not_ a tribute to Bob
Mould) features Avy's purest, most impassioned vocal of the album,
while the dirge-like "Carrying Some" ends _Matinee_ on a sublime note,
the arrangement calling to mind John Cale's work on Nico's classic
_Marble Index_.
So there you have it. A most impressive debut for Sharkboy,
almost entirely avoiding the usual pitfalls which befall a fledgling
outfit. Only in this way are they similar to their better-known label
mates, Suede. Don't walk, run, to your local record shop to buy
_Matinee_.
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